


Exquisite

by lookupkate



Series: Negotiations Amongst Colleagues And Family [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Failed one night stand, Feels, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Greg and Mycroft got together. A simple failed one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Understood?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the beginning got cut off the first time.

It was late at night in a dark club when Greg and Mycroft met for the first time without it having to do with Sherlock. Mycroft stuck out like a sore thumb in his tailored slacks and button up shirt, but with the heat behind his eyes and a drink in his hand he was unstoppable. There was always a random man begging for his attention. That night however, the man turned out to be Greg.

Greg had just finished a case and wanted to get wasted and fucked. He was halfway there with his third drink almost finished and a younger man grinding his hips against his arse. He took the last swig, peeled the boy off and went back to the bar. While the next drink was being made he felt his way along the wall to the loo.

One of his (and Mycroft's) favorite things about this club was the exaggeratedly low lighting. You could be the detective inspector for the met and still get sucked off in a hall.

Greg made it into the loo and fumbled with his zip. His fingers felt large but he knew it was probably the alcohol. He got it down on the third try and pulled himself out. God it felt good to piss. Now all he needed was a decent fuck and he'd feel like a proper human again.

He washed his hands and caught his face in the mirror. He looked bloody tired.

He shook it off and made his way back out into the club, intent on getting his drink and forgetting the look on his own face. He was much too old for this, he knew that, but he needed release, and he didn't have time to try and chat someone up in the light of day. He'd tried, after the divorce, to find someone to date. It always went well until he had to leave partway through dinner. His calls were never returned.

He tipped the barmaid and took a long sip. When he turned around he found himself facing a tall man he almost recognized. The man was rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt to reveal porcelain forearms that Greg suddenly wanted very badly to lick.

"Mycroft bloody Holmes." Greg hollered over the music.

Mycroft looked up, startled at hearing his name and frowned at Greg.

"DI Lestrade. I take it the case is finished." Mycroft said, a bit too formally for how impossibly sexy he looked.

He had a sheen of sweat across his brow and pink touching his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His auburn hair fell to his forehead gently and caught on the sweat. His eyes. His bloody eyes were hypnotic. It probably had to do with the low lighting, but the blue was mostly overtaken by black. Greg wondered if he looked like that when he was keening. When he was choking on a cock. When he was begging on his knees.

"Please don't talk to me about work. And call me Greg." Greg replied, unknowingly licking his lips and telling the taller man everything he needed to know.

Mycroft took a step closer and slipped one arm between Greg's hand and waist to lean against the bar. Greg's breath caught in his throat and Mycroft bent close to whisper in his ear.

"Would you like to ride my cock, Gregory?" He purred.

"Jesus!" Greg exclaimed.

Mycroft rubbed his upper thigh against Greg's growing erection and the shorter man whimpered.

"Say please." Mycroft demanded.

"Please. Please sir." Greg managed without even trying.

Mycroft pulled back with a wicked grin and took the drink from Greg's hand. He drank it down and then started walking towards the door. Greg stood still for a moment, not sure whether he should follow. When Mycroft held his hand up and snapped his fingers he jogged after. 'Like a bloody dog' he thought.

There was a large black sedan waiting at the curb and Mycroft held the door open for Greg. Greg went to get in and Mycroft stopped him.

"This is a one time thing, Gregory. I don't have relationships. We will not speak of this outside tonight. Understood?" He hissed.

Greg nodded feverishly, eager to get into the car and get on with this. Mycroft moved his hand and let Greg get in. He took a seat next to the DI and closed the door. Greg was about to say something when Mycroft undid his trousers and pulled out his gorgeous leaking cock.

"Well, go on." He chided.

Greg swallowed and leaned to take the head between his lips. This was ridiculous. He'd been at the club to find some young lad to suck him off, not the other way around. And yet, as he lapped at the swollen slit he felt a pang of need flow through him. He NEEDED to suck Mycroft's cock. He NEEDED to be told what to do. He NEEDED to give in. So he did.

Mycroft's head fell back as he started to suck in earnest, running his tongue along the sensitive skin of Mycroft's shaft and swallowing around the head. The heat, that exquisite heat, was almost too much, and when Mycroft found himself getting close he pulled Greg off by his short greying hair. The sound it made was...enticing.


	2. I don't usually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get to Mycroft's flat.

Greg took a deep, labored breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He sat back in the seat and watched Mycroft, waiting to be told what to do next. Mycroft tucked himself back into his trousers with a small bit of effort and looked out the window. 

"Can I kiss you?" Greg asked. 

"No." Mycroft replied. 

Greg didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He'd never had anyone say no to him before. Asking if he could kiss them had always been a sure way to turn someone into putty in his hands. He'd expected Mycroft to melt, if only a little. 

The car came to a stop, pulling him from his thoughts and making him a little worried. They were, he thought, going back to Mycroft's place. Why would Mycroft bring him back to his place if he didn't want to kiss him? Did he still want to have sex? Had he messed up? Should he stay in the car and be sent home? 

"Fine." Mycroft sighed. "But only if I initiate." 

Greg smiled and followed him out of the car. The building they walked into was tall and white, simple on the outside but rather ornate through the doors. Greg followed Mycroft down a hall and into a waiting elevator. The taller man pressed three and they started their ascent. 

Greg stuck his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with them for the time being, and looked at his feet. He thought they should be touching each other, groping madly as blood pumped hot through their veins. He felt his erection flagging and wondered if he'd made the wrong choice. It was hard to think. 

The door opened and Greg followed Mycroft down another hallway before he pulled some keys out and ushered him into a dimly lit sitting room. The second the door was closed Mycroft's hands were all over him, pulling and tugging and gripping. God it felt good. 

Greg pulled his shirt over his head and struggled to undo his trousers. Mycroft unbuttoned his shirt with one hand as he reached out and tweaked Greg's right nipple with the other. Greg whimpered and Mycroft licked up his neck and bit gently at his earlobe. 

"I've got some good vodka in the freezer. Would you like some?" Mycroft asked, pulling off his trousers and dropping them to the floor. 

"Yeah, yeah sure." Greg said, momentarily distracted by Mycroft's tight black pants. 

Mycroft stilled and raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, sir." Greg said quickly. 

Mycroft smiled for a second, a little genuine smile Greg hadn't yet seen on the man. Greg's heart did a little cartwheel. He promised himself he'd see that smile again. 

Mycroft disappeared into the kitchen and Greg decided to just pull the damn trousers off. He took off his shoes and socks and waited patiently in his pants. 

Mycroft pulled the bottle out of the freezer and got out two shot glasses. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for this. He liked being physical with someone else, but it also caused a great deal of anxiety. Vodka was the perfect solution. He poured himself a shot, downed it, and then poured two more. He breathed deeply and took the last two before refilling one of the glasses for Greg and walking back into the sitting room. 

Greg was standing there in nothing but a pair of blue pants, looking around like a scared kitten. Mycroft would be lying if he said he didn't want to kiss him. Not yet though. Not yet. 

"Here." He said, holding out the glass and watching while Greg tossed it back. "Another?" 

"Yes, please, sir." Greg said. 

Mycroft smiled that smile again briefly and walked back to the kitchen. When he came back Greg drank the second shot and smiled at him. Greg was starting to feel pretty drunk, legs gone a bit wobbly and seemingly a lot further away from the ground. Mycroft set the empty glass back in the kitchen and came back to walk Greg to the bedroom. 

The lights were on a dimmer and Greg could barely see the bed in front of him. He let his eyes adjust as Mycroft moved behind him and rubbed gently up his sides. His cock was pressing insistently at the cotton of his pants and he felt himself leaning into Mycroft's touch. 

He jumped a little when he felt cool fingers dip below the elastic and grip his arsecheeks. Mycroft pulled them apart and rubbed his erection between them through the two layers of cloth. 

"I'm going to stretch you, Gregory. I'm going to stretch you, and then I'm going to fill you with my cock. I'm going to sink into you and you're going to forget where you are." Mycroft purred. "Have you been tested since your last time with anyone?" 

"Yes, sir. I'm clean." Greg whispered. 

"Good." Mycroft said. "Get on the bed, arse in the air." 

Greg scrambled forward when Mycroft removed his hands and climbed up onto the soft bed. He slipped off his pants and spread his knees, wiggling his arse and closing his eyes. The anticipation was almost overwhelming. He hadn't bottomed in a long time, but he wasn't opposed to it. He liked the feel of a hot thick cock up him. 

Mycroft went to the bedside table and pulled out condoms and some lube. He settled between Greg's feet and poured some lube directly onto his plush arse. It dripped down his cleft and Mycroft didn't waste any time smoothing it over his hole. He rubbed back and forth and felt the muscle relax. When he started to push in he began talking. 

"I've been watching you for months, Gregory. Standing around the outside edge of a crime scene. Sneaking a fag in a dark alleyway. Didn't know I'd find you there tonight. It was a welcome surprise." He said. 

Greg whimpered and pushed back, inching the finger deeper. Mycroft dug the fingers of his left hand into Greg's hip and the man stilled. 

"I can't tell you how many times I've thought about pressing into your tight heat. I almost came in the car with your lips around me." He continued. 

Greg was whimpering and keening at this point as Mycroft fucked him with two long powerful fingers. 

"You feel wonderful, Gregory. Hot and soft and slippery. That's good, yes, relax for me." Mycroft whispered. 

He brushed his fingers against the edge of Greg's prostate, feeling the bunch of nerves and pressing into them. 

"Fuck!" Greg shouted. 

Mycroft laughed hungrily and pulled out to push three fingers back in. 

"Please.! Please Mycroft! Please fuck me, sir!" Greg whined. 

Mycroft pulled his hand away and the sound of the condom wrapper being opened made Greg's cock pulse, a huge drop of precome dripping down onto the bed. Mycroft positioned himself at Greg's arsehole and slipped slowly into him. The second the head of his cock slipped past that first ring of resistance he started to babble. 

"Oh, that's it. That's good. Oh, God. So tight."

He licked up Greg's back, thrilling in the dancing muscles and salty skin. Greg's body was shivering, shaking like a leaf. He kissed Greg's back as he set up a slow rhythm. 

"That's it, I've got you." He whispered. 

It had the desired effect, Greg's body stilling marginally and his grunts turning into moans. Mycroft took the hint and rubbed up and down his thighs as he thrust into him over and over. 

"You're safe. Does that feel good, lad?" Mycroft asked. 

"Yes, sir!" Greg choked. 

"Do you want to come?" Mycroft asked, the act of asking pushing him closer to his own orgasm. 

"Please, sir!" Greg whimpered. 

"Shhhhh. That's good." Mycroft cood, kissing Greg's back wetly and reaching down to fist his cock. 

He thrust a bit harder, letting the momentum push Greg's cock in and out of his hand. When he knew he was close he ran his thumb over Greg's slick head. 

"Go ahead." He whispered. 

Greg made a loud sort of 'oh' and came all over Mycroft's hand. Mycroft fucked into him fast and hard and came seconds later, shouting (embarrassingly) Greg's name. When they'd both gone almost still Mycroft pulled back and slipped out. 

Greg lay down next to a pool of his own cum and closed his eyes. Mycroft got up and tossed the condom, washed his hands and brought a cloth to wash up Greg. He wiped away most of the come on the top sheet and then had Greg move so he could take it off and put it in the wash. 

He was standing at the side of the bed, and thought Greg was asleep, when Greg spoke. 

"Are you going to lay down?" He asked quietly. 

"I don't usually-" Mycroft began. 

"Oh, come on, it's not a marriage proposal." Greg huffed. 

Mycroft sighed and broke his first rule. He slipped into the bed and pulled the covers over them. Greg turned when he didn't wrap his arm around him and looked sleepily into his eyes. Mycroft broke his second rule and let Greg kiss him. 

It was hesitant at first. Just a little peck. Then there were a few more and Greg's lips parted and Mycroft's tongue grew a life of its own and explored his mouth. They kissed like this for a while, slow, sensual, addictive, and then Greg pulled back and nuzzled into Mycroft's chest. Mycroft held him and monitored his breathing as he fell asleep, unwilling to break his third rule and sleep himself. That would just be weak.


	3. That's The Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and their second meeting. God, I love these two idiots.

Greg woke an impressive eight hours later. He blinked his eyes open and settled back into the warmth radiating from the body behind him. The arm holding him pulled him closer. The body behind....the body behind him? 

He turned quickly and found Mycroft frowning at him. His head hurt but he vaguely remembered going home with Mycroft the night before. A shock of arousal flooded his system as he remembered the quite remarkable sex they'd had. 

"Why are you frowning at me?" He asked playfully. 

"I'm not frowning, this is just my face." Mycroft lied. 

"Liar." Greg replied. 

Mycroft withdrew his arm and sat up. Greg felt the sudden cold as his body pulled away and mentally kicked himself for feeling comfortable enough around Mycroft to tease him. He'd obviously crossed a line. 

"Sorry." Greg said resting a hand on Mycroft's back. 

The tall man stood up and walked to the window. 

"It's fine. I have work in an hour." He said flatly. 

Greg recognized he was being told to leave and got out of bed himself, grabbing his pants and trying to not feel rejected. It wasn't like this was his first one night stand. He'd had plenty of nice fucks with strangers that led to nothing. He felt stupid for trying it with someone he knew. 

"I've got to go to the met in a while anyhow." He said. "Wrap up the paperwork and whatnot." 

Mycroft hummed and refused to look at Greg as he grabbed his things and walked to the bedroom door. 

"I'll...see you around." Greg said. 

When he received no response he walked out the door and put the rest of his clothes on by the front door. Just as he was opening the door Mycroft spoke. 

"This was nice, Gregory."

"Yeah." Greg replied pitifully. 

\-----

It was three weeks before Greg saw Mycroft again. He wanted to call him but every time he picked up the phone he remembered Mycroft saying that he didn't do relationships. It bloody hurt. 

He felt foolish for falling for Mycroft, denying it even as he did so. It wasn't like they had some huge connection. They had one admittedly wonderful night in bed and Greg couldn't bring himself to forget it. There was something about Mycroft that he craved. 

He'd gone to a different club the next weekend, hoping to bed someone to get Mycroft off his mind. He'd been clumsy and awkward and spent the rest of the evening alone. He knew it was self sabotage, but he couldn't stop it. 

So that day when Mycroft waltzed onto the crime scene just as Sherlock was leaving Greg's stomach knotted up. He watched as the Holmes brothers fought briefly and felt his heart race as Mycroft approached. 

"Detective Inspector." Mycroft said. 

"Mycroft." Greg replied. 

"You've been over twelve hours without eating." Mycroft said, aiming desperately for nonchalant. 

Greg smiled slightly. "And you care because?" 

"I know a good diner that's still open." Mycroft replied. 

"You didn't answer my question." Greg said, smile broadening. 

Mycroft huffed and turned to walk to the car idling at the kerb. 

"I suppose I just can't help it. Are you coming?" Mycroft asked. 

Greg trotted after him and hopped into the car. 

\-----

The ride to the diner was tense. Mycroft looked out the window the whole time, not wanting to admit that the DI's presence was bringing him comfort. Greg sat nervously, wanting to avoid saying anything that might make Mycroft change his mind. 

When they pulled up in front of the diner Mycroft got out and walked in quickly. Greg followed and sat across from him gingerly. The waitress came by and took their orders. 

"So what is this?" Greg asked finally. 

"What do you mean?" Mycroft said, playing dumb for the first time in years. 

"Social call?" Greg asked. 

"Just making sure the person working with my brother is taken care of. Wouldn't want you putting him at risk." Mycroft said. 

"You've never taken note of me before. If this were about your brother we'd be meeting in an abandoned building on the outskirts of town." Greg noted. 

Mycroft looked closely at his water and didn't say anything. 

"It's okay if you want to see me again. I had a good time, even though we didn't get to spend much time together." Greg said gently. 

"You slept for eight hours." Mycroft scoffed. 

"Okay, we didn't spend much time CONSCIOUS together." Greg retorted. 

Their food came and they stayed quiet while they ate. Mycroft was right about the food being good. Greg ordered a simple fry up and was pleased with it. 

"Chelsea is playing Liverpool this Saturday." Greg said at length. "Want to watch it at my place. 

"I'm not really one for football." Mycroft replied. 

"Yeah, but you seem to be one for me." Greg whispered. 

"I told you before, Gregory, I don't date. I apologise if you got the wrong impression-" Mycroft began. 

"As mates." Greg said, cutting him off and hoping desperately that he'd just shut up about the not dating thing. 

"I don't really do mates either." Mycroft said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

"Well it's about bloody time you break that little rule." Greg said. 

Mycroft sighed, trying to look put upon. "I suppose one match won't kill me." 

Greg grinned widely. "That's the spirit!" 

They went back to eating though Mycroft had lost his appetite. He was already in too deep and needed a way out. He knew he shouldn't have gone to the crime scene. He knew it would be too tempting. It was just that watching Greg via CCTV had become almost painful. He wanted to see Greg smile, and he never seemed to. Now he'd got his smile and there was no turning back. Weak. Bloody weak.


	4. Feel That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg tries to have a cigarette in peace. Mycroft ruins it...wonderfully.

The night of the Chelsea v Liverpool match was cool but dry. Greg stopped at the store on the way home to pick up a few things. He got some beer and crisps, hoping that Mycroft wouldn't be disgusted by his choices. They weren't fancy in the least. 

When he got home he put the beer in the fridge and started pacing. He was nervous, very nervous. He felt like a tight string about to break. What had he been thinking inviting Mycroft over? This would just end up being embarrassing. He decided to do something he knew he shouldn't. 

He walked into the hallway and dug around in the closet. Under some boxes, hidden in an old motorcycle helmet was what he needed. He grabbed it and walked outside. He sat on the pavement behind the building and toyed with the cheap plastic lighter and the half empty cigarettes.

He pulled one out of the pack and rolled it back and forth in his fingers. He knew he shouldn't. It had been a long time since he'd last had one, and if he had one now he'd want another soon. He closed his eyes and pressed the filter between his lips. He flicked the lighter, feeling tension in his belly at the once common act. 

He opened his eyes and lit the tip, taking the first drag and holding it in his lungs until the burn made him cough. He breathed it out and cleared his throat. 

"I take it this isn't your first time." Mycroft said from behind him. 

Greg hopped to his feet and looked around. Mycroft was standing in the shadows near the edge of the building, face its normal mask of indifference. Greg looked at the cigarette hatefully and was about to drop it when Mycroft spoke again. 

"Can I have a drag?"

Greg nodded and walked forward, handing the stick over and leaning against the wall. 

"Didn't know you smoke." He said. 

"I prefer a pipe, but this will do." Mycroft said flatly. 

Greg should have known he smoked a pipe. What a posh git. He suddenly wondered what he was doing trying to woo someone out of his...well, price range. 

Before he could think of something to say Mycroft had moved in front of him. He stood with his feet apart, almost boxing Greg in. Greg choked out a breath as Mycroft leaned with one hand over his shoulder. 

"You really shouldn't smoke, you know. Bad for your health." He said, deep voice rumbling from his chest. 

Greg didn't say anything. Didn't know what to say. Instead he looked at his feet. Mycroft took another drag, let his hand drop and pulled up on Greg's chin. When he tilted his head and leaned in Greg's mind stopped working and he didn't know what was happening. It felt like slow motion, like everything had been submerged in molasses. Mycroft drew closer and used his thumb to push down on Greg's bottom lip. 

When he sealed their lips and breathed the smoke into Greg's mouth it occurred to him that he was breaking another rule. He hadn't planned on staying the evening. He'd set up for Anthea to call an hour in and tell him about some 'urgent' business. He'd planned on never seeing Greg again after this. 

Instead he found himself drawing back to take another drag and blow it between Greg's lips. The feeling was electric, their lips brushed together and Mycroft let his tongue dart out before breathing the smoke into Greg's lungs again. He felt like his teenage self, sneaking out after school to smoke and wondering how his mother always knew. 

He stood back again and looked at Greg. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were already half lidded. He wondered how much more it would take to break him, to get him to beg. 

"You're a thing of beauty, Gregory, and I have very good taste." He said, pulling more smoke from the cigarette and blowing it to the side. 

Greg didn't respond. What was he supposed to say? Thanks for saying I'm beautiful? Fucking Christ. 

"What do you think it is about you that keeps me coming back, hmm? At first I thought I was having a bad week. Too busy to think straight. Could still be true. I just kept thinking back to the night we spent together." Mycroft purred. 

"I've, um, I've been thinking about that a lot too." Greg replied. 

"I want to fuck you." Mycroft said. 

He said it so matter of factly that it took Greg a moment to hear the words. He said it like you might say 'I want to read that book'. 

"Ok." Greg said weakly. "My flat's on the second floor." 

Mycroft moved closer to stop Greg from leaving. Greg leaned back against the wall and looked up at Mycroft. 

"No. I want to fuck you here." Mycroft growled. 

"Oh, bloody hell." Greg whimpered. 

"No one takes this route unless they don't want to be seen. Anyone in this alley will mind their business. Now be a good lad and turn for me." Mycroft said, twirling his finger to get the point across. 

Greg swallowed deeply and did just that. When Mycroft shoved him his arms flew up to balance against the wall. He stood silent as he felt Mycroft's breath on the back of his neck. The bastard was smelling him. He was a grown man about to be fucked in an alley and he was hard as a bloody rock. 

He let his head fall as Mycroft reached down to cup the bulge in his pants. God, did it feel like heaven. He hadn't been this turned on while sober in years. He saw the cigarette butt hit the ground and a shiny shoe crush it, and then Mycroft's hands were on his waist. 

The taller man undid his belt and fly, kicking his feet apart so he fit between them. He heard a zip being undone and then Mycroft was pulling his trousers and pants down to his thighs. 

"I take it you're clean." Mycroft said. 

Greg nodded and choked out a sob as Mycroft stroked his cock once. He felt the breath on his neck again but was still surprised when Mycroft spoke directly into his ear. 

"I'm leaking all over myself." He whispered. "Feel that?" 

Greg bit his lip so hard he could taste copper when Mycroft rubbed a slick finger between his cheeks and pressed it to his hole. He started rubbing it in circles, teasing Greg open. 

"I said, feel that?" Mycroft repeated. 

"Y-yes!" Greg replied. 

He pushed in just the tip of his finger and started kissing Greg's neck. Greg couldn't help pushing his hips back, it was instinct. It felt fucking fantastic to have Mycroft in him, even if it was strange and even if it was just one finger. Oh! Two! 

Mycroft drew back from his neck and licked behind his ear. Greg moaned quietly and Mycroft started pumping his fingers. It was almost too much to process, the cold brick under his fingers, the warmth of Mycroft's tongue. Greg felt like he was spinning and couldn't be arsed to care. 

"That's right, Gregory, let go. Let me do what I want with you. I'll be just as gentle as you deserve." Mycroft whispered as he carefully gathered more precome from the head of his own prick and pushed three fingers into Greg. 

Greg was whining and bucking his hips back withing seconds. Mycroft decided he was ready and pulled his fingers out. He held his cock at Greg's arsehole and slowly pushed in. There was a moment before the head popped in that Greg wasn't sure he was stretched enough, then it was happening. Mycroft moved in tiny increments, pushing in slightly and then pulling out, just to push in again deeper. 

Greg must have been moaning loudly because Mycroft shoved the fingers of his clean hand into Greg's mouth and pushed down on his tongue. The taller man was making little grunting noises and finally finding a rhythm. Greg closed his eyes as the hips slapping against his arse sped up. 

He was worried for a second that he might come too soon, and without even being touched, but Mycroft's hand was suddenly circling his cock and pulling at it urgently. He only had a few seconds to register that Mycroft was close before the man was biting into his shoulder and pushing in so deep Greg was forced to his tip toes with his face against the brick wall. 

Greg came as he felt Mycroft spill into him, letting his cock be milked by the large hand still working it. After a few seconds when it was becoming too rough Mycroft's hand disappeared after being wiped on Greg's pant leg. 

"Now that you've left me with minimal brain functionality, I think we'd better watch that match of yours." Mycroft said, pulling out and tucking himself back into his expensive wool trousers. 

Greg nodded sleepily and pulled up his pants and trousers, grinning to himself and wondering if he could convince Mycroft to have another go after the match.


	5. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys watch the match after all that hot alley sex. Btw, don't try that at home.

Greg led Mycroft to the front of the building and to his flat. He showed the man where to hang his things before popping into the loo. Mycroft looked around, mentally cataloguing Greg's tastes from color to textile. He didn't mean to, of course, it wasn't something he wanted, but he did. Everything around him was categorized and stored in its own place in Mycroft's mind. 

He walked to the fridge and looked inside, bit more exotic than he'd expected for a mid-income forty year old, but simple none the less. He pulled out a beer and rolled it back and forth in his hands. When he heard the bathroom door open he slipped it back in and stood aside. 

"I picked up some beer if you want. It's in the fridge." Greg said. "I'll turn on the match." 

He walked to the telly and flicked a button. People were cheering and Robbie Mustoe was saying something about Suarez. Greg cursed and walked to the kitchen. Mycroft smiled as he took a pull from his beer and watched Greg approach. 

"Something wrong, Gregory?" He asked. 

"Bloody Suarez. I swear someday I'm gonna run into him in a pub and he'll regret it." Greg said. 

Mycroft chuckled and put the bag he'd been carrying on the table. He pulled out some prosciutto, a jar of olives, crackers and a large wedge of cheese. 

"I do hope 'pub food' will do." He said. 

"Christ, you're a life saver!" Greg replied, pulling out a cutting board and a few plates. 

They each made themselves a plate and went to sit on the couch. Greg dug right in as the match began and Mycroft sat back and watched him. He cursed intermittently at the telly and made comments Mycroft didn't really understand while poking him with his elbow. It should all have been more than a bit off putting, but it somehow wasn't. 

A half hour in Greg got up to grab another beer and when he sat back down he was a lot closer to Mycroft. The fission of heat in Mycroft's belly made him set down his beer. He shouldn't be drinking. He shouldn't be here at all. But then Hazard scored a goal and Greg jumped up and screamed and smiled widely. He should have left, but Greg's eyes twinkled and he thrust his fist in the air and Mycroft was transfixed. 

"Did you see that? Did you bloody see that, Myc? Hazard's a genius! Fucking genius! He'd give your brother a run for his money, he would!" Greg shouted. 

Greg went on and on while halftime passed and when he sat back down again he was resting against Mycroft's shoulder. It would be so easy to wrap his arm around the shorter man and hold him close. He actually felt like he should, as if some magnetic pull was working on him. Greg grinned again, and went back to watching the match. 

Mycroft managed not to put his arm around Greg's shoulder while the match was playing, but lost all of his senses when Greg turned the telly off. Greg turned to him, eyes full of almost childhood delight and Mycroft couldn't stop himself from surging forward. Their lips met and parted and Greg let Mycroft's tongue thrust into his mouth. 

When they finally drew back for a breath Greg spoke. "Stay the night. Come to bed with me and stay the night." 

Mycroft stiffened and looked away. He really shouldn't. 

"I won't take it to mean anything. It's late and we're both tired. Take it as convenience." Greg added, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes and nodded. He stood from the couch and brought his plate and his half empty beer to the kitchen. He closed his eyes as he felt Greg slip up behind him. The shorter man grasped his hips gently and kissed his neck. 

"What did I say about kissing?" Mycroft murmured. 

"That I'm so good at sucking cock that I can do anything I want?" Greg teased. 

Mycroft growled and spun around, gripping Greg's biceps and kissing him roughly. He bit at his lips and then started nibbling down his neck, making his way to the shorter man's collar. 

"We need a shower." He said curtly before letting go of Greg's arms. 

Greg nodded and led the way to the bathroom. He started the water and began to strip. Mycroft followed suit, carefully folding and stacking his clothes and looking as prim as anyone with an erection possibly could. He followed Greg into the shower and stood under the spray. The water was almost too hot, but it felt good. 

"You like to talk back." Mycroft observed. 

"And you like a bit of resistance." Greg added. 

"Tonight will have to be the last time we fraternize." Mycroft replied. 

"Of course." Greg said with a wink. 

He soaped up a flannel and began rubbing it across Mycroft chest, the glint never leaving his eyes. Mycroft let him drag the cloth over his skin and even turned so he could do his back. He was so relaxed by the time Greg finished that his eyes had slid closed. 

"Out you get, sleeping beauty." Greg chimed after he'd cleaned himself. 

Mycroft frowned but climbed out and stood still as Greg dried him off. His erection was gone for the moment, but as soon as Greg knelt to dry his calves he felt the blood begin to pool in his belly again. Greg smiled up knowingly and stood. 

"Bedroom's this way." 

Mycroft followed him down the short hall and crawled onto the bed with him. He let Greg kiss him, unable to remember why he was so opposed to it in the first place. Greg's hands were warm and sure, and for once in his life he let someone else lead. He closed his eyes and took in the flood of sensation. 

Greg licked and nipped at his neck while taking both of them in his hand and stroking. Greg's cock was silky against his while the hand that wrapped around them had callouses. His tongue laved over the bite marks he was inflicting on Mycroft's chest and he couldn't help but let his climax approach. 

It was so different than earlier that night. Whereas things had been almost distant they were now incredibly intimate. Mycroft felt all his control slipping, and although he wasn't sure he liked it, he let it go. He opened his mouth and moaned and felt his seed begin to spill over Greg's hand. Greg grunted and moved his hand faster, then came with a shout. 

He continued to stroke them for a while longer until both were boneless and blissed out. They lay, shoulders touching, and just breathed. When Greg felt Mycroft take his hand he let him, glad at the small show of affection, and impossibly happy. He wondered if Mycroft felt a fraction of that happiness. He hoped he did.


	6. Let Me Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft talk boundaries.....sort of. 
> 
> Sorry it's a day late, real life can be a bitch! And my bed was nice and warm.

After a few minutes of simply laying and breathing Greg sat up. He walked to the bathroom to wet a flannel. While he was gone, and only for a few seconds, Mycroft freaked out. He absolutely lost his mind. His head spun, hollering at him to get up and leave. Telling him he was pathetic and emotional. Telling him he'd finally become his father. 

When he was younger his father had committed suicide after a long and painful divorce. It had all started when father found out that mummy was cheating on him with an old friend. Mycroft had seen his father go from a joyful strong man to a broken child. All that happened, every tear filled phone call and desperate mid-night visit was because he let himself get tangled in emotions. The most dangerous of all being love. Love made you ignorant of other's flaws, ignorant to their actions as well. Love was-

The warm cloth dragged slowly across his skin and he couldn't help the loud sigh of relief that came out. He closed his eyes upon Greg's smile and tried to center himself. He was simply experiencing one of the well know side effects of sexual climax; fondness. He was fond of Greg, and it had to stop. He took a deep breath and ground his teeth. 

Greg pulled away and lay down next to him, taking his hand and rubbing his thumb over the knuckles. Mycroft pulled his hand away and sat up. 

"I have to go." He said curtly. 

"You really don't." Greg replied, sitting up on his elbows and watching Mycroft stand to gather his clothes. 

"I apologize for confusing you, Gregory, but I can't stay the night." 

Greg sat up all the way and ran a hand through his hair. It was always like this with Mycroft. He preferred to stay at a distance and Greg wondered why. Greg made a decision and stood in front of the bedroom door. 

"You CAN stay the night, but you won't. Tell me why."

A look of fear flitted over Mycroft's face before he looked away. "I really don't have the time to explain." 

Greg crossed his arms and tilted his head. "It's fine with me if you don't want to. It's fine if this is too much. What's not fine is you lying to me. Tell me why you're leaving." 

Mycroft snorted and pulled on his trousers. "I'm hardly the only one lying here, Lestrade." The use of his formal name came across as the insult it was. "You don't want me to stay out of convenience, you want me to stay because you know what it will do to me!" 

Greg looked furious. "And what's that? Do tell." 

"Sleeping in congress with another person tends to grow trust. You want me to trust you. You want me to trust you so that you can do whatever you want with me." Mycroft spit. 

"Why does wanting you to trust me have to be a bad thing?" Greg asked. 

"I've made it quite clear from the beginning that I don't want a relationship. I'm not sure why you're so suddenly picking up on my hesitance."

"You're right. You warned me. Sorry I misunderstood." Greg said weakly, going back and laying down on the bed. 

Mycroft watched him, mouth slightly open. He hadn't expected Greg to give up so easily. Another reason he should head out the door. And yet he found himself standing at the edge of the bed refusing to leave. 

"Have you ever been in a relationship?" Greg asked quietly. 

Mycroft swallowed audibly and looked away. 

"So why are you so against it? You like me, I know you do. You keep saying you don't want this, this closeness, and then you hold my hand and kiss me. I don't know what to think anymore." Greg said, sounding defeated. 

"I don't know what to tell you, Gregory. I'm not an easy man to deal with." 

"I just need to know if you want this. I need to know if I'm making an arse of myself." Greg said, sitting back up and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

"I think I may want this, I don't know. I don't know." Mycroft whispered nervously. 

Mycroft nervous was frightening. Greg had never seen him like this, had never thought he would. He found himself getting from the bed and guiding Mycroft back down onto the sheets. He pulled him close and kissed his neck. 

"Relax." He whispered. 

Mycroft did so slowly, and let Greg pull his clothes back off. He felt sick to his stomach at being treated like a child, like he was fragile. When they were laying naked against each other once more Greg kissed his lips and ran fingers through his hair. 

"No one looks at me like that." Mycroft whispered, voice hoarse and mouth dry. 

"Like what?"

"Like I might break."

Greg kissed his lips again, softly. "I don't think you'll break." 

Mycroft kissed him back the next time their lips touched and Greg let him slip his tongue between his lips and wrap a leg around him. His eyes slid closed as Mycroft took the lead back, obviously feeling more confident. He let the tall man nip down his neck and lick behind his ear. 

"What do you want from me?" Mycroft asked as he held Greg tight against him. 

"I just want to take care of you." Greg said honestly. 

"Why?" Mycroft asked. 

Greg took a second to think before he spoke. "Because you're strong and smart and sexy. Because you know just how to push me around. Because I don't like the idea of you being alone. You deserve better." 

"So you're willing to let me lead?" Mycroft whispered. 

"Absolutely." Greg replied. 

Mycroft liked the idea. He'd felt earlier that when Greg was wanking them he was taking something from him. He felt like he was giving in. Perhaps it was being taken care of rather than giving in. That didn't sound so bad. He thought he could give that a try. 

"Goodnight, Gregory." He whispered. 

"Night, My." Greg replied sleepily.


	7. You Could Stay

Greg had been up for a few long minutes watching Mycroft sleep before his eyelashes fluttered. They danced and then stilled once more. Greg let his thumb brush over Mycroft's left cheek and felt him sigh. He wanted Mycroft to stay in bed with him all day, even though he knew it would never happen. 'Maybe when we're both old and retired.' He thought. 

And wasn't that a thought? Being with Mycroft long enough to know why he did things the way he did. Although, then again, maybe he would never know. Maybe it wasn't a matter of understanding why and rather of understanding that. Perhaps it was about knowing what to expect. 

Mycroft breathed deeply and rolled to his side, waking and turning stiff suddenly in Greg's arms. Greg supposed it was the moment of truth. He would know soon whether Mycroft was able to be comfortable around him the morning after such intense emotions had been felt. 

"Gregory." Mycroft said, voice rough with sleep. 

Greg withdrew his arm, thinking a kiss might be the wrong route, and sat up. 

"I was thinking I'd make some eggs. How do you want yours?" He asked.   
"I'd prefer toast, if you have some." Mycroft replied, sitting as well and clutching the sheet to his chest. "What time is it?" 

"Six. When do you have to go?" 

Mycroft looked at his mobile and frowned. "I don't have to leave for an hour." 

Greg nodded and stood, going to put some bread in the toaster and start the kettle. After a few minutes he heard Mycroft's voice from the loo. 

"Blasted thing." 

"Need help?" Greg asked, less concerned and more curious. 

Mycroft came out, still in the sheet, and looked at his feet. "I require a shower, but I've not been able to work yours. The damn thing's been around since the cold war." 

Greg smiled and walked into the bathroom, noting happily that Mycroft's eyes followed his naked form. He wiggled the handle on the tub until water started to flow and began to leave the room. 

"You could stay." Mycroft said. 

Greg looked surprised. 

"Save water. We aren't in a drought, however..." Mycroft added. 

Greg smiled and walked back in. The water wasn't warm yet, it always took a while in the mornings, so Greg squeezed toothpaste onto his and a spare brush. He passed the spare to Mycroft and they brushed their teeth in silence. Greg rinsed and spit and hopped into the bath. Mycroft got in behind him and stood nervously as Greg wet his hair. 

They traded places as Greg lathered his hair, and Mycroft closed his eyes and let his head fall back under the spray. Greg wanted to lick up his neck, and with any other lover he wouldn't have hesitated, but with Mycroft he didn't know how he would react. Instead he reached for the shampoo bottle before Mycroft could. 

"May I?" He asked. 

Mycroft looked at him with furrowed brows. "You'd like to?" 

"Very much." Greg replied, surprised by the grittiness of his own voice. 

Mycroft huffed and closed his eyes. It was enough to tell Greg that he wouldn't have to beg, so he poured a small amount of the lightly scented gel into his palm and began working it through Mycroft's short hair. It curled a great deal more when it was wet, and it felt wonderful between his fingers. He rubbed at Mycroft's scalp and smiled when the tall man moaned. 

"Rinse." He whispered. 

Mycroft breathed deeply and let his head fall back again. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and Greg had to stop himself from mouthing at it. He helped Mycroft rinse all the lather out and then took a step closer, right foot between Mycroft's. 

"May I kiss you...sir?" He asked quietly. 

It had the desired effect as Mycroft's cock fleshed out that last bit and he nodded fiercely. Greg held his shoulders gently and moved in to lay soft kisses along Mycroft's throat. Mycroft shivered as his cock rubbed against Greg's stomach. Greg left wet open mouthed kisses up his neck and wrapped his lips around Mycroft's earlobe. He sucked gently and then pulled away. 

Mycroft's eyes fluttered open and he looked properly dazed. "Gregory?" 

Greg bit his lip and nodded. 

"I don't really do any of this while sober. You'll have to forgive me for any lack of finesse." He whispered, gripping Greg's biceps and looking him over hungrily. 

"You're forgiven." Greg said with a smirk. 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and swatted at Greg's arse. Greg made a surprised noise and his eyes went wide. Mycroft watched his face carefully, a slow blush moving up his neck, and did it again. Greg rolled his hips as Mycroft gripped his arse and dug his short manicured nails in. 

"Tell me, tell me what you need, sir." Greg whispered roughly. 

Mycroft let his head slip to the side and smiled wickedly. "I believe you were cleaning me up. Perhaps you should continue." 

Greg bit his lip and grabbed a flannel and bar of soap. He rubbed across Mycroft's chest and down to his stomach, teasing around his cock as he spread the lather between his thighs. Mycroft let his breaths show his interest and held one hand to the tiles for balance. Greg moved down one leg and up the other, then had Mycroft turn so he could clean his back. 

He rubbed his thumbs roughly between the tall man's shoulder blades, drawing out a loud sigh as he worked out knots. By the time he was rubbing a soap slick hand between Mycroft's buttocks the man had relaxed noticeably. Greg slid to his knees and wrapped his arms around Mycroft's left leg. The water had rinsed away the soap, so he pressed his face to the sensitive skin of one arsecheek and closed his eyes.

Mycroft cleared his throat after a minute and Greg let go and sat up straight. Mycroft turned around and smiled down at him, seeing the show of submission for what it really was, not a move to prove Greg's submissive streak, but an act meant to soothe the other man's nerves. Mycroft pulled on Greg's chin and ran his thumb across his bottom lip. 

"You did very well, Gregory." He said softly. "Now up you go." 

Greg got shakily to his feet and closed his eyes as Mycroft ran his hands across his sides. The fingers were long and dextrous, and Greg wanted so badly to have them wrapped around his prick. Instead they soaped him up and cleaned him just as well as Greg had. Just when Greg was about to give up on any release Mycroft pulled him close and began to rut against him. 

Greg moaned loudly and clutched at Mycroft's shoulders as their hips moved together. Mycroft gripped his arse and rolled his hips and Greg was quickly approaching orgasm. It shouldn't have happened that quickly, but every bit of not touching involved in the last fifteen minutes had him aching for it. 

He was just about to say that he was close when Mycroft bent down and whispered in his ear. "You're allowed to come if you need to, Gregory." 

Greg whimpered and a hot pulse passed through him, making his legs shake and his body tighten. Mycroft pumped his hips once more and he was coming, squirting white fluid between them and clenching his eyes closed. Mycroft continued to rut and came seconds later, grunting and kissing Greg's neck.


	8. If You Are Amenable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft invites Greg to dinner and Sherlock makes a surprising announcement.

They came down from the chemical high slowly. Neither of them noticed how long it had been when the water started to turn cold. They rinsed off quickly and hopped out. Greg was giggling and shivering a bit and Mycroft tried to look unamused. He really did. 

There was a knock at the door that cut through their revelry like a sharp knife. Mycroft cursed and went to get dressed while Greg put on a robe and answered the door. He let Mycroft's assistant come in and take a seat in the sitting room. 

"Tea?" He asked. 

She simply shook her head, not looking up from her mobile. 

"Alright, then." Greg said, going to the kitchen and refilling the kettle. 

He ignored the odd smell in it, promising himself he wouldn't let it boil all the way down again. 

A few moments later Mycroft came out of the bedroom dressed perfectly and oozing professionalism. His assistant rose from the sofa and walked out the door as Mycroft walked towards Greg. He pulled on the cuffs of his shirt and cleared his throat. 

"I'd like to make you dinner tonight. If you are amenable." He said, voice lacking emotion of any kind. 

"Yeah. I'd like that. What time?" Greg asked. 

"Seven thirty. I'll have a car pick you up." Mycroft replied. 

They stood awkwardly for a second before Mycroft ran a hand through Greg's hair and turned to leave. Greg felt weak in the knees from the touch and let his eyes slide closed. He couldn't believe what he felt over that small amount of attention. He really had fallen for the posh bastard. The good news was that it seemed mutual. 

\-----

Greg walked out back to pull his car around a half hour later and was surprised to find a certain dark haired detective leaning against it. He smiled to himself as Sherlock picked at his fingernails. He looked like an upset child pouting the way he was. Greg leaned against the car next to him. 

"If this is about your brother-" Greg began. 

"Don't be silly, Lestrade. I need a ride to the Met. Figured I shouldn't waste my money when I was in the neighborhood." Sherlock lied. 

"Yeah, sure. Get in the car." Greg said with a small smile. 

Sherlock waited for him to unlock the door and then slipped in silently. 

"Where's John, then?" Greg asked. 

"Mmm. At work. Saving the common wealth from the common cold. Boring." Sherlock replied. 

"So. How are things?" 

"If by things you mean my sexual relationship with John you are more blind than I thought." Sherlock snapped. 

"Oh, is that so? What do you really want, Sherlock?" Greg asked, done with playing games. 

"I don't like to share." Sherlock replied. 

"Share what?" Greg asked, eyebrows knit. 

Sherlock looked at him for the first time that day and Greg honestly didn't know what the look on his face meant. 

"You." Sherlock whispered.


End file.
